


Unpredictable

by masquerad



Series: Unconventional!Verse [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Apparating, Drarry, Lots of dialogue, M/M, Pre-Slash, Prequel, pubs, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9265481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masquerad/pseuds/masquerad
Summary: Harry doesn't want to be here. Two years sober and he certainly doesn't want to fall back into old habits. Until somebody buys him a drink. A certain snarky blonde who is just making his headache worse.





	

Harry didn't want to be here. He hadn't had so much as a shot of Firewhiskey in two years and he'd planned to keep it that way. According to Ron, he was never an alcoholic. According to Hermione, he was.

It was just something Aurors did. They went to the pub on Friday nights after work, even though a lot of them worked Saturdays, too. Two years ago they'd all sit around the biggest table, drinking beer and laughing and talking about their week. Usually, everybody had left before Harry stumbled home to his bed, or somebody else's, more frequently.

It was a lot hotter in here than he remembered it being. Sure, it was July, but the sun had already set and the dusty scent of somebody's cooling charm lingered around the table. He wanted another beer, but he promised himself he'd only drink one tonight and go home when Shacklebolt did. Of course, those plans had changed. Shacklebolt had gone home nearly an hour ago and Harry was past a little tipsy.

A waitress in her grey skirt came up to their table and set down another beer in front of Harry. "From the bloke at the next table," she said, a smile on her bright red lips. Her teeth were crooked and yellowed from smoking. Harry wondered if Hermione's parents could fix that for her.

"Thanks," Harry said and took the beer, even though he'd probably slide it over to Ron when the waitress walked away. He looked to the next table to find it empty.

"Looks like he's gone to the toilets. I can send him over if you'd like."

Harry shook his head. "It's fine. Thank you for the pint." Then he turned his attention to a story Barnes was telling, watching the waitress walk back toward the bar out of the corner of his eye.

There were a few problems with a bloke buying him a drink. One, he really shouldn't drink another pint tonight. Two, Ron was looking at him oddly. And three, nobody was supposed to know he was gay.

He was wearing a glamour, in a muggle pub, so surely nobody could tell he was Harry Potter. Which meant a stranger had decided at random that he wanted to talk to Harry. Something about that didn't sit well with him.

He slid the beer over to Ron. "I shouldn't drink it," he said, casting a _Tempus_ with his wand barely out of his sleeve so as not to draw attention to himself. "Actually, I should head home. I've got the early shift tomorrow. Filling in for Susan."

Ron nodded. "Alright then, mate. I'll be here for a while yet. You're good to Apparate home?"

"I've only had a few beer, Ron. If I splinch I'll be sure to send a Patronus so you can laugh at me."

Harry grinned and stood, bidding goodbye to the group even though nobody heard him over the white noise humming throughout the room.

Outside the air was cool and refreshing. The stars were invisible under dark clouds, but the moon shone through the gaps as they drifted along on the wind. Looking up, he bumped into another man standing beside the door. He had a lit cigarette in his mouth, and mumbled a curse word as he burned his finger.

"Sorry," Harry said, not really looking at the stranger until he began to speak.

"As you should be, Potter. Rude to not even speak to the man who bought you a pint, isn't it? Did you even drink it?"

Harry stopped. " _Malfoy?_ "

He could still feel the buzz of magic around his face. His glamour hadn't worn off, but he still reached up to make sure he had the hooked nose he'd seen in the mirror an hour ago.

"Oh, don't worry about your glamour. It's still working. When you practice Occlumency you learn to look through a glamour that feeble. Did you expect to fool the passing wizard, Potter?"

Harry blushed. He'd known glamours weren't his strongest skill, but his Aurors had said he'd be fine.

"My Aurors couldn't tell it was me," Harry said firmly. There was no way he'd let Malfoy embarrass him by buying him a pint and then _laugh_ at him on the side of a London street.

"Yes, well, they're all a bunch of uneducated swine, aren't they? Occlumency is a good skill to have, you'll have to get them up on that. Anyway, what are you doing in a Muggle pub? Can't the saviour afford something a little less grimy?"

Malfoy's plummy accent was giving him a headache. He'd had too much to drink for this.

"Just let me go home, Malfoy. I've got to work tomorrow."

That alcohol was really starting to kick in, wasn't it? He'd become a lightweight in two sober years— Malfoy was starting to look attractive. He'd filled out a bit since school, but retained his wiry frame and sharp features. There was a bit more broadness to his shoulders and definition in his arms... And Merlin, wasn't he cold in just a tee shirt?

"Are you planning to Apparate? You look a right mess, Potter. I think you're more drunk than you realise. Are none of your slimy friends planning to see that you get home in one piece?"

"I'll be fine. I've got to go find somewhere vacant to Apparate from now. It was nice to see you... Well, not really. Enjoy the rest of your life in case I don't have the displeasure of seeing you again."

Harry turned on his heel and was about to walk away when Malfoy caught his sleeve.

"Where do you live, Potter? Let me make sure you get home safe, since nobody else seems worried. We can't have the saviour splinching and bleeding out in some remote Scottish village or another odd place like that."

"I'm not about to tell you where I live so you can go shout it out to the public."

"I won't shout it out the public. Don't be ridiculous. I know the thirst for privacy as well as you do. Now, tell me where you live."

Harry sighed. Malfoy seemed genuinely concerned, but Slytherins were good liars, weren't they? He supposed to man was right. Splinching wasn't something he'd like to try out.

"Just bring me to Godric's Hollow. I can walk home from there."

"Still living by your parents' house, then? Alright." Malfoy linked arms with him, muscle flexing against Harry's bicep. "Godric's Hollow!"

He turned on his heel and they Disapparated.

**Author's Note:**

> And I presume you can tell what happens next... I hope this is as satisfactory as the first story in this series. I might write a sequel later, but for now enjoy a prequel to start off with.


End file.
